


Promised Land

by ArtificialTVirus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child, Gen, Monster - Freeform, OC, Short One Shot, cryptid, urban legend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtificialTVirus/pseuds/ArtificialTVirus
Summary: and if your omen wasn't a bad one, would you take her hand?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Promised Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madicham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madicham/gifts).



> merry christmassss madiii it's my shortest one be proud

A hollow’s night end in the tamed little village of a wondering spirit. Just as stars befell the sky, so did the silence of moonlight follow; alone, in solitude of every sleeping face and hushed laughter, the large sphere would never get to hear any of them. The little faces of youthful children amidst the sunny days and few souls living in what once used to be home to many. Now, it was just remains of that blissful echo, with so few people that they walked a step closer to grave every morning.

But that didn’t stop them from existing. From _trying_ to reach for the stars and usher out of despair. From the cursed air that roamed the huts and cabins and its mysterious presence, which often regulated but never harmed.

No, they couldn’t leave that sorrow. She watched over _her_ children.

It wasn’t a home. Not any sort of residence to be considered; beings and legends never had that. But for her, it was… something.

A place. One with more impact than the rest. The one she visited regularly.

And for that, the one that the villagers called “cursed.”

She heard; through the hooded cloth and mute voice, she _heard._

_“That village’s cursed!”_

Cursed? Misfortuned?

_“Beware of the cryptid in the skies and woods! The scary monster will take you away if you don’t listen to your mother!”_

A threat to the young ones. Oblivious used to be bliss, but now…

_“But what if the scary lady is cold?”_

The last time the small child has spoken to her mother. _She_ had even watched the aftermath of tomorrow; - hung and burned. The same species of people slaughtering one of their own, and the youngling was left to die.

Though, it didn’t. At least not immediately the day after, and time still ticked. Maybe it would soon.

Maybe it would even get to walk with _her._

The villagers refused to open doors no more. Every time she knocked, there would be silence. Laughter and mockery behind, shrouded in the masks of fear. As if that simple door had kept them a barrier away from her.

Ignorance. But she never tried anything more. Never wanted more. A knock on the door before feet walked back to the sky; - with, or without.

But it was fine. This, this small little area, was what _they_ would call home. It was theirs, and hers. She watched their weary forms wake up every morning, slumber the exhaustion every nightfall, and on that mysterious occasion of the reaper’s nights, embrace death.

That was her own journey. _They_ were. For centuries and beyond, it remained.

And it should have, forever more, as long as she held existence as the being they called her. An “urban legend” that strolled through the eternity of time and presented a hand of opportunity for those daring to take it. Few did, and she guided them away; to a different life, death. A unique era that could only be witnessed if you let her take you away.

Not bad, not good. Peculiar. _Special._

Perhaps even that child would follow before the reaper got her.

A knock. So soft, so quick. You could easily ignore it. She never tried better.

_“Coming!”_

The small generous voice from behind yelled. It seemed excited as always, as if her mother hadn’t been tortured to death some time ago. Ignorance, or something else?

_“Who is it?”_

And she asked a mute reply.

_“Is it the scary monster lady?”_

But the figure remained. Waited. The outcome appeared indifferent.

_“Are you cold? Do you want to come inside?”_

Then, the door began unlocking. From the small child operating a large mechanism, her soft face curiously beamed to meet the infamous story of legends, but the only greeting passing by was a harsh gush of wind.

“Huh? Lady?” They opened. _She_ opened it. “You don’t have to hide!”

So carefree, so casual. But _she_ never hid.

Never did much.

“Lady, do you have a name?”

This time, even _her_ curiosity was felt. Eons of time, and only now that soft voice spoke, skinny legs descending back on the ground where they were.

“Name…?”

She spoke. She _appeared in front of a human,_ and _spoke._

“Yeah! You know, like what are you called? I don’t really like calling you a scary monster lady…”

The smaller form remained unphased. All of her happiness and joy, laughter and warmth; she wasn’t affected as the others. She, would never call her cursed.

“No… name,”

A small ‘oh’ before a little hum, and then;

“What about Vida? I think it suits you! You’re pretty!”

 _Vida?_ Pretty? Monotone voice gave no further words, her odd appearance standing watching the youngling in front.

“Do you like it?” A tug on the cloth. “Hey, I heard you take people away! Take me somewhere!”

Through the clothed rag, even the wind made that fake face curve forward.

“Vida…Yes”

“Yay! Let’s go somewhere Vida!”

They would. To heaven and back, she would guide this child as she has all of them. A rare time, her skinny arm extended, feeling a cupped grasped touch of _life_ eagerly holding hers.

A knock on the door was all it ever took, and those who opened were met with a sealed fate. Maybe they hadn’t known, didn’t want to.

Maybe they were all naïve.

But this one… This, child, that gave _her_ a name. Was she truly ignorant, oblivious as the rest?

Or was it something entirely else?


End file.
